  Who does not wish that he might have been there, When Martha Custis came down the stair In silk brocade and with powdered hair, On that long ago Saturday clear and fine, A. D. Seventeen fifty-nine? Out from St. Peter's belfry old, Twelve strokes sounded distinct and bold, So in history the tale is told, When Dr. Mossen, preacher of zest, Long since gone to his last long rest, There in the Custis drawing room, New world house, with an old world bloom, Spake out the words that made them one, Martha Custis and Washington. Trembling a little and pale withal, She faced her lover so straight and tall, Oh, happiest lady beneath the sun! Given as bride to George Washington. Brave was the groom and fair the bride, Standing expectant side by side, But how little they knew or guessed What the future for them possessed; How the joys of a wedded life Would be mingled with horrors of blood and strife; How in triumph together they'd stand, Covered with plaudits loud and grand, Yes—covered with glory together they'd won, Martha Custis and Washington. Where is the gown in which she was wed? Brocade, woven with silver thread? Where are the pearls that graced her head? Where are her high-heeled silken shoon That stepped in time to the wedding tune? Where are her ruffles of fine point lace? Gone—all gone with their old world grace. But the world remembers them every one, And blesses the lady of Washington. It is difficult to give the proper credit for the above poem. Mrs. Walter J. Sears, New York City Chapter, found a few beautiful lines, author unknown, added some lines herself, and then sent the whole to "Will Carlton," who revised and added to them. Mrs. Sears recited the poem at the celebration of Washington's wedding day by the New York City Chapter, D.A.R., in January, 1909. |
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